A good writing day is a strange high. You're buzzing as your fingers cascade across the keys typing out the words (whose origins are unclear, this whole writing thing has always baffled me). The plot continues to explode with different avenues down the street I go, and although I have a clear beginning, middle and end in my head, I'm constantly surprised from the middle-parts that keep sprouting.
I want to keep going, but I need to end on a high note. A place I can begin again with high energy. The sad part is, as great as I feel and as happy as I am with the 3,614 words I wrote today, I don't get to share it with anyone. Not yet, at least. In the past, longer pieces have been shared with people as I write them. I decided to be an enigma with this one. Let's just hope when I hand it out to a few people to be my first victims, they won't look at me with disgusted eyes and say, "really? Three to four years and this is what you did?"
I do not want the hairy eyeball.